


That Which Keeps Us Down

by Mari201w



Category: Batman - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29736495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari201w/pseuds/Mari201w
Summary: Reality was cruel. And hope? Sometimes hope was the cruellest thing in existence. A maddening feeling saying that contrary to all previous experiences this time, this time might just be different. Hope was a sign of desperation, of madness. And yet the human condition was predisposed to it, wanting nothing more than to believe that all the suffering would be worth it in the end. In reality, suffering was rarely worth a glorious outcome. The was never really a reward for it or even a moral that had to be learned to attain that mythical happy ever after. It was just another way the world kept those who didn´t have much down. Another systemic way to oppress the undesirables of society while simultaneously casting the blaming for their situation on themselves. That they were to blame for not being good enough, even though society refused to give them the chance to prove themselves good enough.She was a burden according to society, and as such she should be grateful for the little that it deigned to give her.
Kudos: 1





	That Which Keeps Us Down

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't really know what this is yet. I wrote it after having read far to much BNHA and Batman fics, but so far this isn't really taking place in either. Feel free to read it as an OC in either setting, I guess. I'm pretty indecisive of how to continue this, but I'm still pretty proud of it and feel that it is good enough to share with others.
> 
> So I hope you guys like the first attempt at writing fics that I felt was good enough to be posted

There were days where she tried not to think, yet she knew it would be hopeless in the end. Her thoughts would keep on flowing through her mind like an unyielding storm, the pace ever increasing. Sweeping her away in the resulting flood and leaving her exhausted. The constant internal on slaughter left her without much energy to deal with anything outside her mind and resulted in most thinking her slow, dumb or plain mute. She was fine with that, having long ago learned that it was better to keep silent than to be mocked when her mouth inevitably couldn’t keep up with the speed of her thoughts, leaving her to stammer out disjointed half sentences. Not that anyone was really interested in anything she had to say in the first place. That was another lesson she had learned early on. After all, she was useless. What could she possible contribute?

And yet… and yet she couldn´t help but wish that someone would listen. That someone would let her feel like she belonged. That she wasn´t an outcast doomed to a lonely existence. But it was just that… a wish. Reality was cruel. And hope? Sometimes hope was the cruellest thing in existence. A maddening feeling saying that contrary to all previous experiences this time, this time might just be different. Hope was a sign of desperation, of madness. And yet the human condition was predisposed to it, wanting nothing more than to believe that all the suffering would be worth it in the end. In reality, suffering was rarely worth a glorious outcome. The was never really a reward for it or even a moral that had to be learned to attain that mythical happy ever after. It was just another way the world kept those who didn´t have much down. Another systemic way to oppress the undesirables of society while simultaneously casting the blaming for their situation on themselves. That they were to blame for not being good enough, even though society refused to give them the chance to prove themselves good enough.

She was a burden according to society, and as such she should be grateful for the little that it deigned to give her. The ratty one-room apartment with enough mould on the walls that she knew that one day her health would be unable to protect her anymore. The meagre allowance she was given every month. It was barely enough to keep her feed two meals a day, and forgoing meals was the only way to save up enough money that she would be able to afford turning on the heating during the cold winter months. She was constantly running a cost-benefit analysis in the back of her mind, weighing the need for food versus the need for warmth. What was most likely to get her killed? The malnourishment or the inevitable cold? What could she afford to go without today? These few amenities she would of course be striped of the day she turns eighteen. What awaited her after that she barely dared to contemplate.

What’s more, society also expected her to be thankful for the abuse it hurled at her. To be thankful for the reminder that she wasn´t seen as worth anything. That she was beneath the rest. A free target for the more privileged to take out their petty frustrations out on. And of course, when the far more prosperous portions of the populous found themselves dissatisfied with their lot in life, she and the other undesirables were the go-to scapegoats. Not enough money to lower the taxes? Blame it on the fact that society must waste money on supporting people like her who “squander” it on alleged frivolities. Don´t blame it on the politicians who keep on lining their own pockets with public funds or take “donations” from industries and firms to make laws that suite company interest over the publics. It was draining, day-in and day-out being looked down upon for something that wasn´t her fault.

Sometimes she tried to fight her way out, attempting to rise from her station in life, yet she never succeeded. Society simply would not allow it. She would go out to search for an occupation only to be turned away. Sometimes it was due to the way she dressed, being poor didn´t lend itself to presenting oneself properly dressed. Sometimes it was due to her age and lack of experience, the necessity of a job played little to no part in circumventing the first argument and it is hard to gain experience when no one is willing to hire you. Now and again the limiting factor would be her lack of higher education, again her circumstances did not afford her the luxury of higher education, money was tight enough already without spending it on a degree. She was stuck in an endless loop of being told that she should get herself a job and cease leaching off of society, yet unable to attain a job due to lack of resources and credentials, which can only be gained with more resources from the society which already affords her less than the bare minimum.

It was a never-ending cycle that she could not break free from and led many like her to pursue a living off less honest means. Most ended up as a low-level thug for the local gangs hoping to gain enough notoriety and influence to rise in the gang’s hierarchy, but seldomly succeeding. Others would end up becoming addicted to one thing or another. Be it the burning need to forget all one’s sorrow at the bottom of a liquor bottle or the sweet seduction of hallucinations of a better world brought on by the use of a wide range of drugs. Those who succumbed to these addictions ended up with a pitiful fate, spending all they had to feed the addiction and becoming only the shell of who they once were. Most of them would die alone in the gutters of the city’s streets, unknown and unnoticed. Most of her own gender would end up either stuck in an abusive relationship they had been lured into by the promise of a better life, or they would end up selling their bodies on the curb yet having to hand over most of their earnings to their local pimp who would also abuse them. There was truly no real escape when you are at the rock bottom, and she knew this, those like her knew this, and the society that kept them there also knew this. Their sheer hypocrisy never losing them a single night of peaceful rest.

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